An Eye for an Eye
by perfectvelvet
Summary: An attack on Olivia's life sends her to the hospital and Elliot on a hunt to find the man who shot her.
1. Chapter 1 of 3

Title: An Eye for an Eye  
Author: perfectvelvet  
Rating: PG-13 for language and violence, O&E  
Synopsis: An attack on Olivia's life sends her to the hospital and Elliot on a hunt to find the man who shot her.  
Notes: I did some research on New York City to write this, considering I've only been there once. All of the addresses are accurate - apartment buildings, Hilton Times Square, etc. Oops if I put Benson and Stabler in ritzy areas :) Also, I've utilized a dozen sources to make all of the medical situations accurate. Basically, everything in here is possible. At least I hope so.  
Thanks: Hugs to Beth for her editing and always-appreciated praise :) And to kukrae for pointing out my little boo-boo and offering much support. 

Disclaimer: The characters you recognize are property of Wolf Films and Universal Television. No infringement is intended. The characters you don't recognize were created by me. 

_An Eye for an Eye_ 1/3  
by perfectvelvet 

_East 40th Street  
Saturday, July12_

"What time is it?" 

Elliot Stabler glanced at his watch. "Quarter til twelve." A sigh escaped his partner's lips, and he chuckled. "What's the matter, Liv? Afraid you'll turn into a pumpkin at midnight?" 

"No, I'm helping out at that youth basketball tournament tomorrow morning." 

"Oh, right, your date with Munch." 

The look Olivia Benson gave him was emphasized by a punch on the shoulder. "It's not a date. It's just us agreeing to be at the same place at the same time for the same purpose." 

"And in the same cab." 

Olivia glared at him playfully. Elliot laughed again, turning toward his apartment building and climbing the few steps to the entrance. He was about to reach for his key when someone opened the door. He looked up. "Hey, Randy, thanks." 

Randy Moore had lived across the hall for the past two months, but their occasional outings to Yankee Stadium had made them fast friends. "You're getting back late, Elliot. You're not keeping him out past his bed time, are you, Olivia?" 

She smiled. "Quite the contrary." 

"Hey," Elliot protested, "it was your idea to eat dinner _after_ Shakespeare in the Park." 

"Iambic pentameter makes me hungry." 

Randy chuckled. "It usually just makes me sleepy. Can't afford that, not since I've started working the graveyard shift over at the Hilton." 

"How's that working out for you?" Olivia asked. 

"Can't complain. Right in the heart of Times Square, and they pay me well. But not if I'm late." He waved over his shoulder and started off down the street. 

"Bye," they called out, heading inside and up the stairs to the second floor. 

"So why are you dragging me up here again?" Olivia asked, glancing at the door to Randy's apartment while Elliot unlocked the door to his own. "It's late." 

"Well, Lizzie would kill me if I forgot." 

"Lizzie?" The mention of one of his twin children made her frown, and she followed him inside. 

"Yeah, Lizzie." He crossed the room to his kitchenette and pulled a vanilla-colored orchid out of a vase. "She told me that I should get you a flower because 'that's what guys are supposed to do for girls.' Her words exactly. And I remember you said something about orchids, so ... here you go." 

He handed her the flower, and she took it with a chuckle. "Yeah, that's what guys are supposed to do for girls, but I thought you standing in line for three hours for tickets to see 'Henry V' was acceptable. Thanks, Elliot." 

He bowed slightly. "You're welcome. Make yourself at home, I'll call you a cab." 

*** 

_I'll have to remember to thank Lizzie,_ Olivia thought as she headed downstairs to the waiting taxi. Elliot had changed since his divorce, and in this case, change was good. Even though three of the children still lived with Kathy, they were free to visit their father whenever they wanted, and he saw them more often than he did when they all lived under the same roof. They didn't seem to resent their parents' decision, and Olivia was glad; the hardest part about his divorce, Elliot had told her, was the thought of losing his children. Now that the papers were signed and the legal fees had been paid, it was almost as if he was an entirely different person. Calmer, more relaxed. She smiled to herself and smelled the flower in her hand. _And a whole lot more thoughtful!_

Olivia opened the door and headed outside. She crossed the sidewalk, her arm already reaching for the door handle. "Hey, Olivia!" She recognized the voice and turned toward it, smiling. 

Then she saw the gun. 

*** 

The reverberations of the gunshot startled him. It sounded much too close, almost as if it was right outside. Elliot went to the window and threw aside the curtain. "Oh, my God." He raced out of his apartment and down the stairs, taking two at a time, tripping at the bottom and almost falling to the ground. "Olivia!" He thrust open the door that led outside and jumped over the steps, breaking into a run when his feet hit the concrete. "Olivia!" Elliot dropped to his knees beside her, lifting her head off the sidewalk. He pushed his other hand against the wound on her chest. The blood gushed between his fingers. Her brown eyes were half-opened, but he wasn't sure if she could see him. "Oh, God. Olivia! Talk to me, Liv." 

"What can I do?" the cab driver asked, kneeling beside them. 

"Call an ambulance," Elliot answered harshly. The veins in Olivia's neck were bulging out. _Stay calm, Stabler._

"I did! They're on their way." 

Her eyes dropped to a close. "Olivia, don't you die on me. Come on, Liv, stay with me." He looked quickly at the cab driver. "Do you have a first aid kit in there? Get a bandage, a towel, anything. We need to put pressure on the wound." When the man returned with a ladies scarf, he snatched it from him and pushed it against Olivia's chest. His eyes fell on the orchid he had given her. The flower, once cream-colored, was now stained crimson. "Hold on, Liv," he whispered quietly. "Hold on." 

*** 

_Bellevue Hospital Center  
462 First Avenue  
Sunday, July 13_

Elliot paced in the waiting room, boring holes into the linoleum. When he got tired of walking, he sat in a chair and put his head in his hands. Then he was up and pacing again. The ambulance attendants didn't give him the opportunity to ride along; he had heard one of them say something about her heart as they loaded her into the back of the bus. The cab driver who had been at the scene drove him to Bellevue Hospital, where they were taking Olivia. It wasn't the closest emergency facility, but it was one of the best in the world. Now no one would tell him anything, except that she was in surgery. He continued to walk around the room. Waiting. 

"Elliot." John Munch walked over to him, followed by his partner Fin Tutuola. "We heard about Olivia." He didn't answer, and Munch looked at his partner. "Fin, go get us some coffee." Fin rolled his eyes and walked off, muttering something about being a waitress. "What happened?" 

Elliot sat down beside Munch. "She was shot. I don't know. I don't--" He stood again. "--know. One minute she was in my apartment and the next she was bleeding to death. I don't know." 

"Did you see anybody?" 

"I told you, I don't know." 

Munch leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers. "Okay, man. It's just standard protocol, you know that. Ask the witnesses what happened, what they saw." 

Elliot nodded, finally sitting back down. "I'm sorry. I just--" He sighed. "It's Olivia in there." 

Fin returned with two styrofoam cups. He handed one to Elliot. "Here you go." 

"Where's mine?" Munch asked. 

"Go get your own." He sipped his beverage. "Let's start at the beginning and work from there. What did you guys do yesterday?" 

"I took her to Shakespeare in the Park. Sort of a thank you for hanging around with me and the kids a few weekends ago. I spent three hours in line to get tickets." He half-smiled at the memory. 

"Never pegged Olivia as a fan of Shakespeare," Munch said. 

"Me neither, but she really enjoyed it. We were going to have dinner somewhere, but we decided to walk through the park instead. We got hot dogs from one of the vendors. Then the show started at eight. When it was over, Olivia suggested we have dinner at this twenty-four hour Chinese place she likes. We got back close to midnight." 

"Anyone follow you?" Fin asked. 

"No." 

"Did you talk to the cab driver?" 

"There wasn't any time." 

"Do you know which company it was?" Munch asked, pulling out a small notepad. 

"Cab International." Elliot shook his head and rose. "I should've walked her outside." 

"Then you would've been shot, too," Fin said. "It's not your fault. Perp probably took her by surprise." 

"Was anything missing?" Munch asked. "Her wallet, anything like that?" 

"I don't think so. I heard the gunshot and ran to the window. He would've still been there if he was mugging her, but I didn't see anyone but the driver." He frowned deeply. If the person who shot her wasn't a robber, then why bother shooting her at all? He glanced at Munch and Fin. The looks on their faces betrayed their objectivity; they were thinking the same thing. Munch's ringing cell phone interrupted their silence, and he answered it. 

"Detective Stabler?" A man in blue scrubs entered the waiting area. "I'm Doctor Page." 

"How is she?" Elliot asked, practically cornering the doctor. "Will she be all right?" 

"She got here just in time. Her blood pressure was only 90 over 70 and her neck veins were enlarged. Those were the first signs that we were dealing with a cardiac tamponade." 

"A what?" 

"The pericardial sac surrounding the heart wasn't working properly because it was filled with blood. We drained it during surgery. She'll likely make a full recovery." 

Elliot sighed and collapsed in the nearest chair. "Can I see her?" 

Page shook his head. "She's drifting in and out of consciousness, and we need to keep her vitals stable. Since we're keeping her in CCU for the cardiac tamponade, we're also going to put her under observation for her head injury. Her GCS was eleven when the paramedics brought her in. We suspect a mild to moderate occipital concussion, probably from when she hit her head on the pavement." When no one spoke, he excused himself and left the room. 

"The captain called," Munch said, snapping his cell phone shut. "The cab driver's waiting for us over at the station." 

*** 

_Special Victims Unit  
Interrogation Room  
Sunday, July 13_

"Tell us about last night." Fin eyed the driver, Bhim Kumar, who sat hunched over in a chair, head in his hands. 

"Everything was fine when I got there. She came out of the building and walked toward the car. I started up the meter. Then I heard a man say her name. Then there was a gunshot." 

"He knew her name?" Fin asked, glancing over at Elliot who was patrolling the perimeter of the room. 

"He knew _her_. I could tell by the way he called out to her. Very familiar." 

"Did you get a look at the guy who did this?" he continued. 

Kumar shook his head. "When I saw the woman on the ground, I got on the radio and called for an ambulance. Is she going to be okay?" 

"Can you remember anything else, no matter how insignificant it might seem?" 

"No. I'm so sorry. I want to help, but I didn't see anything. I feel so terrible. I should have watched her get in the car." 

Elliot walked over to the table where Kumar was seated and leaned toward him. "So what you're saying is that you don't know anything because you weren't paying attention." 

His eyes darted between Fin's face and Elliot's. "S--sometimes lovers kiss, they grope, and that's none of my business." 

"She walked out alone, you said it yourself. Pretty woman like that and you didn't even look at her?" 

"I have a wife, two children. They came with me from India. I'm not interested in American women." Elliot leaned closer, and Kumar backed away, whimpering. "I would never betray my family!" 

"Well, she's my family," Elliot said, his voice low and level, "and you betrayed her." 

Fin jerked his head toward the door. "Thank you for your help, Mr. Kumar. If you think of anything else, give us a call." Kumar jumped out of his chair, nearly tipping it over, and darted out of the room. "You know, next time you want to play good cop/bad cop with our only witness--" 

"He's not our only witness." Elliot straightened and looked at Fin. "Olivia knows who did this to her." 

"And like the doc said, she's unconscious. So until we can interview her, take it easy." 

"Take it easy? My partner was almost killed and you want me to take it easy?" His eyes darkened with anger. "Go to hell." He pushed past him, bumping his shoulder, and threw open the door. 

Captain Don Cragen stood in the doorway, face blank, posture solid. "My office." Without a word, Elliot followed him. 

*** 

"You know, Bhim Kumar came to the station on his own." Cragen closed the door to his office and went to his side of the desk, sitting in the chair. "He wanted to help." 

Elliot threw his hands up. "He didn't have any information." 

"And it's a good thing too because I saw your little interrogation in there. Harassment of a volunteer witness?" 

"Captain--" 

"I know that tension is a little high today. Our unit has suffered a terrible loss. So I'm going to turn a blind eye this time. You do it again, I won't be so lenient." He picked up a file folder on his desk and began reading a report. Elliot didn't move. Head down, he said, "You're excused, Detective." 

There was a pause. "When Kathy served me with divorce papers, I thought my life was over. Nearly twenty years of marriage, and then she just didn't love me anymore. I didn't know what to do. I couldn't even remember life before Kathy and the kids." Elliot sighed, the weariness evident on his face. "Somehow, I ended up at Olivia's apartment, and it was like she knew exactly what happened. Through the whole ordeal, she stayed by my side and supported me. I slept on her couch for two months until I could find my own apartment and not _once_ did she ever complain. I don't know what I would've done if it hadn't been for her." 

"Look, Elliot ... why don't you take some time off? Maybe go see your kids--" 

"It's not my kids I'm worried about, it's Olivia. Someone tried to kill her, and I need to find out who. I owe her that much." 

*** 

Elliot sat behind his partner's desk, looking at the photographs lining the edge. Olivia and her mother, Olivia's grandmother and two dogs, Olivia and the gang at last year's holiday party, Olivia and him. He picked up the last photograph and sighed. 

"Huang, my man, what's up?" 

Elliot lifted his head at the sound of Fin's voice to see the young forensic psychologist enter the squad room. "George." 

"I just heard about Olivia. What happened?" 

"Perp shot her outside of Elliot's apartment," Fin answered. 

"Random attack?" 

"Not likely," Elliot said. "Cab driver said he heard a man call out her name in a familiar manner." 

"So it was personal." Huang paused in thought. "If he knew Olivia's name, maybe she knew him." 

"He coulda seen her on TV or in the paper, developed some sort of fixation," Fin said, folding his arms across his chest. "She and Stabler were getting a healthy dose of culture at Shakespeare in the Park that evening, so he would've had to have known they were together." 

"Elliot, where on her body was Olivia shot?" 

He gestured to a spot near his sternum. "Near the heart. Why?" 

"And what do you do when someone calls your name?" 

"I look at them." 

"By turning your _head_. You check to see if you know them. And if you do, you turn your body." He carried out the actions as he said them. "It's open, familiar body language." 

"So she was facing him, which means she probably recognized him?" Elliot shook his head. "I don't know." 

"You've been partners with Olivia since I started helping out at Special Victims. Can you think of anyone who would want to kill her?" 

He laughed wryly. "Yeah, hundreds." 

"I don't necessarily mean criminals. It's the familiarity thing again. She knew her attacker. The open body language is used with friends, neighbors, co-workers. I don't think she would physically 'open' herself to someone she put behind bars." 

"The case is cold, Doc," Fin said. "We got no witnesses, no evidence. The only person who can identify the perp is Olivia herself." 

Munch entered the bullpen. "It took all morning, but we finally finished interviewing everyone in Elliot's apartment building." 

"What did you find out?" Elliot asked. 

"Other than the fact that you live with some very strange people, not a lot. No one actually saw the shooting, and those who heard it looked out their windows and saw you holding some bleeding woman. That's about it." 

He rubbed his face vigorously with his hands then stood. "I should go by the hospital, see if Olivia's in any condition to speak." 

"They've got the number to the station and your cell with distinct directions to call if her condition changes." Munch shrugged. "Go home, get cleaned up, maybe get some sleep. We'll keep you updated." 

Elliot hadn't realized how exhausted he was until Munch said the word 'sleep.' He'd been awake for almost thirty hours, running on pure adrenaline. "That's probably a good idea." He picked up his suit coat and slung it over his shoulder, walking toward the exit. "Hey, Fin, about earlier?" 

The man nodded. "No hard feelings. Just remember, we're on your side." 

"Thanks." 

*** 

The drive home was long and lonely. The memory of his partner nearly dying in his arms replayed over and over. If the ambulance had arrived just a few minutes later or had gotten stuck in traffic on the way to Bellevue... It was his job to protect her, and he had failed. The guilt sunk heavily in his chest, causing a deep and incurable ache. 

Once he reached his apartment, he called his children. He wanted them to know what had happened, that he loved them and wanted them to be safe. They were all concerned for Olivia's health, Kathleen especially. Since the divorce, she had formed a close bond with Olivia that at times seemed to surpass the one she shared with her mother. 

_"Dickie, throw it to me! Dickie!" Lizzie's shouts were ignored as her twin threw the ball to Kathleen. "Dad!" _

Elliot lifted his head. "Dickie, be nice to your sister!" The boy seemed annoyed but obeyed the next time he caught the ball, tossing it to her. "He's at that stage where it's not cool to have manners," he told Olivia, who sat next to him on the park bench. "Lizzie just wants to fit in, and Kathleen ... Kathleen's been so distant lately." 

"She's growing up, Elliot. You used to say the same thing about Maureen, and now she calls you every week to let you know she's okay." 

"Having a child turn sixteen is a parent's worst nightmare." 

Olivia chuckled. "Two down, two to go. Come on, you're doing great." 

"It hasn't been easy, but you know that. They handled the divorce better than Kathy and I expected. I'm grateful for that." He smiled at her. "I'm also grateful for you, Liv." 

"Me?" 

"You've put up with me more times than necessary, helped me out with the kids--" 

"Elliot, you don't have to thank me. That's what friends do, they help each other out." She leaned closer to him. "Someday, you're going to find a woman who understands you, who deserves you, and who loves your kids." 

He tilted his head toward her. "You think so, huh? Got any women in mind?" 

"Um, Olivia?" Kathleen twisted her fingers together and looked at the ground. "Could I talk to you?" 

Elliot slid over to make room for his daughter. "Sure, honey, sit down." 

She scoffed. "Not you, Dad. I said Olivia." 

"She said Olivia," Olivia repeated, standing up and following the teenager. She looked over her shoulder and half-shrugged, trying to keep the grin off her face. A smile touched Elliot's lips as he watched them go to a different bench. He may have had a woman in mind himself. 

Elliot sighed at the memory, walking through his apartment. Everything in there reminded him of her as well. She had helped him find the place and buy furniture. 'It helps to have a woman's touch,' she had told him, even though he really couldn't tell the difference. Months ago, they had attended an art show together, both of them gravitating toward the same ugly painting which now hung over his bed. They were so much alike. 

He headed for the bathroom, intent on washing his hands for the umpteenth time. He swore he could still see Olivia's blood on them. He flipped on the light and looked at the mirror above the sink. A ragged breath choked him. 

Taped in the center of the mirror was a professionally taken photograph of him in the foreground and Olivia off to the side, her face blackened out with a permanent marker. The pen had also been used to scrawl a message above the photo: 'An eye for an eye.' 

*End of Chapter 1 


	2. Chapter 2 of 3

Title: An Eye for an Eye  
Author: perfectvelvet  
Rating: PG-13 for language and violence, O&E  
Synopsis: An attack on Olivia's life sends her to the hospital and Elliot on a hunt to find the man who shot her. 

Disclaimer: The characters you recognize are property of Wolf Films and Universal Television. No infringement is intended. The characters you don't recognize belong to me. 

_An Eye for an Eye_ 2/3  
by perfectvelvet 

_Elliot Stabler's Apartment  
250 East 40th Street  
Sunday, July13_

Police swarmed Elliot's apartment, searching his bathroom and hallway for fingerprints, DNA, or other trace materials leading to the person who had written the message. Elliot simply sat on the couch while they worked, hands on his knees, staring at the blank television screen. 

"How you holding up?" Huang asked, sitting beside him. After Elliot had notified the police, Huang requested to come along and had arrived with Munch and Fin. 

He gestured to the officers that swarmed his home. "Now I know how the perp feels." 

"Only you're the victim." 

"And not just of this home invasion." He looked at the psychologist. "The guy who did this shot Olivia to get to me, didn't he?" 

"It looks like it. Do you have any idea who would've done this?" 

"Not specifically, no. I just..." Elliot sighed and shook his head. "Why didn't he come after me? Why did he have to hurt her?" 

"The message he left - 'An eye for an eye' - implies revenge. You took someone very important away from him. Now he's trying to do the same to you. He wants you to suffer the way he suffered." 

"We need to get a police detail outside of Olivia's room." 

Huang offered him a sympathetic smile. "Cragen already ordered it." 

Munch walked into the living room. "Either the guy wiped the place down clean, or you're the biggest neat freak on the planet. Not a print anywhere in your bathroom or hallway. The Sharpie marker used to leave the message was found floating in your toilet, effectively destroying any evidence that was on it. The photo of you and Olivia was the same one used in a newspaper article about six months ago." 

Elliot nodded. "I thought I recognized it. Cragen has it on his wall of fame. Can't remember what story it went with though." 

"Fin called the _New York Times_. Apparently, the photo was an original stolen from their archives three nights ago." 

"Does anyone have keys to your apartment?" Huang asked. 

"Yeah, Olivia. She had them on her when she was shot, and they were with her personal belongings at the hospital. I have them now." 

"Then not only did the perp have to get someone to buzz him in," Munch said, "he had to pick the lock to your door. Could he have done that without being seen?" 

Elliot stood. "Maybe not." He left his apartment and knocked on the door across the hall. "Randy, it's Elliot." 

His neighbor appeared after a few moments, dark hair sticking up from all directions, eyes half closed. "Hey." He peered around Elliot and noticed the police. "Is Olivia okay?" When Elliot frowned, he continued, "Some of your buddies came knocking on my door at nine-thirty this morning. I'd just gotten back home and into bed. They told me what happened. I'm really sorry." 

"Did you see anyone over at my apartment?" 

"Today? No, I've been asleep. Why, what's going on?" 

"Nothing. Sorry to bother you." 

Randy nodded. "Look, if you need someone to talk to..." 

"Thanks, Randy." He went back to his apartment and met Fin in the doorway. "What's up?" 

"Just got off the phone with the head of archives at the _Times_. Seems one of their staff has a curious little habit." 

*** 

_The New York Times  
229 West 43rd Street  
Sunday, July 13_

"Everything's going digital, you know? Newspaper printing technology hasn't caught up yet, so we prefer our photographers to use film. Better quality anyway." Fred Newton walked Elliot, Fin, and Munch through the archives in the basement of the _New York Times_ building. He was a stout, balding man with a born-and-raised Bronx accent. "We keep all of our storage areas temperature controlled. Greater longevity that way." 

Fin fell into step beside Newton. "You said something about an employee taking photographs?" 

"Not _taking_ them, per se. But _borrowing_ them." He shook his head. "His name is Eddie Greene. He's responsible for keeping the archives in order. Damn good at it, too. Since he started, I've been able to find anything I'm looking for." 

"But?" 

He led the trio to a computer terminal in the center of a room full of metal filing cabinets. "We use this computer to keep track of our files. You can come down here, type in some search criteria, get the lot number of the photograph you want, then go hunt it down. We have another program that scans photographs into our layout program. Once you obtain the image and place it on the scanner, you have to enter your user ID before it'll do anything. The program also keeps a record of all scans and references them by user, photograph, date, and time. That way, we don't use the same image more than once in any given period of time." 

"What does this have to do with Eddie Greene?" Elliot asked, rubbing his temple absently. 

"There have been one hundred sixty-seven photographs scanned by Anna Fitzgerald in the last month." Newton looked at them expectantly, as if they should know why that was significant. "She's on maternity leave. Someone has been using her ID to scan and print images. All of them have been done from this terminal during Eddie Greene's working hours - the midnight shift. There's no one else down here but him." 

Munch gestured to the computer. "Can you tell if any of the scanned images were of Detective Benson?" 

"When Detective Tutuola called me and reported finding the photograph of the two detectives, I did some checking." He punched a few commands into the keyboard, and a long, detailed list showed up on the screen. "We have four different images of Detective Benson by herself in our archives, and all of those images were scanned and printed using Anna's ID." 

Elliot's eyes narrowed. "Where's his locker?" 

*** 

_Special Victims Unit  
Interrogation Room  
Sunday, July 13_

Eddie Greene was the type of perp that Elliot hated. Cool, uncaring, smart-assed. The man was somewhere in his mid-twenties with short brown hair and a permanent smirk attached to his face. He sat back in his chair, relaxed, hands clasped behind his head. 

Munch and Elliot circled him like vultures. "So, Eddie, any idea why we brought you down here?" 

He sneered at Munch. "Some sort of fascist plot to wipe out the good guys from the planet. I'm supposed to be at work in an hour so let's quit the games." 

"We got a look inside your locker, Eddie," Elliot told him, dumping out the contents of a manila folder. Photographs of Olivia, Judge Lena Petrovsky, the mayor's wife, and many other local women spun across the table, resting in front of Eddie. "Recognize these?" 

"That's invasion of privacy!" he shouted. "You can't take my things!" 

"We had probable cause, and your boss, Mr. Newton, gave us permission. Even went so far as to bust the lock for us." He put his hands on the table and leaned forward. "Care to explain all these photographs? No? How about the comic strips?" Elliot opened another folder and spilled a dozen explicit, hand-drawn cartoons over the photographs. "They are pretty comical after all. You think that the mayor's wife is actually going to have sex with you?" 

"You can't bust me for using my artistic talent to fulfill my fantasies." 

"I bet the judge wouldn't be too happy if she saw herself in your 'fantasies.'" 

Eddie shrugged. "Maybe she'd get excited." 

Elliot wanted to slap the damn smirk right off his face. "And this one?" He shuffled the drawings until he found one featuring Olivia. "You think she'd enjoy that?" 

"What, sucking me off?" He laughed. "Come on, Detective, admit it. You've had the same thoughts that I have. Those beautiful lips wrapped around your--" 

Eddie released a pitiful yelp as Elliot grabbed him by the neck and slammed him against the wall, holding him a few inches off the floor. "Listen to me, you little prick. I've had it with your attitude. Either you're going to answer our questions, or you're going to find yourself the object of some inmate's fantasy at Sing Sing. Got it?" He squeezed a little tighter on Eddie's windpipe before letting go. Eddie reached for his neck, glaring at Elliot. "Now sit down." 

"Where were you last night, around midnight?" Munch asked. 

"At work. I was making up my hours because I'm taking next Friday off. I'm going to have to work even longer tomorrow to make up for the time spent in this dump." 

"So at midnight, you were at work." 

"Are you hearing impaired, old man? Yes, I was at work." 

"Now, see, that's funny because according to your time card, you didn't show up until 12:24." 

"So I was running late. What's it to you?" 

Munch made a slow circle around the table. "It just so happens that one of your fantasy women was shot last night at midnight." 

"Who?" He looked around blankly. "Oh, God. Detective Benson?" 

"What'd you do, Eddie, proposition her and have her turn you down?" 

"What?" Eddie started to jump out of his chair but was promptly slammed back into it by Elliot's hand. "No way, man, I did _not_ shoot anyone!" 

"Oh, come on, Eddie," Elliot whispered in his ear, "you know how it is. Fantasize about a beautiful woman, how luscious her lips are, and you can't resist. So you decide to tell her--" 

"No." 

"--maybe show her your package--" 

"No!" 

"--and when she turns you down, _bam_!" The sound of Elliot's voice echoed in the room, and he shoved Eddie forward then stood up. "You shot her. Can't take 'no' for an answer, can you?" 

Eddie shook his head over and over again. "No. No, no, no. I would _never_ hurt Olivia." 

"You're on a first name basis now?" Munch asked. "Sounds like the M.O. of our perp. Real friendly." 

"_No_!" Eddie looked up at Elliot with wide eyes brimmed with tears. "I didn't do it, I swear." He lowered his head, fingers splayed protectively over the photographs on the table. "I swear..." 

Elliot looked at Munch and frowned. "We'll see. Now about Thursday night--" 

"I was on time Thursday." 

"Yeah, we know. But we also know that someone stole a photograph of Detective Benson that night." 

"No, not of her. Of you and her," Eddie said, looking up again. "He paid me five hundred bucks for it, and it's not like we were going to use it again anyway." 

"Who paid you?" Munch asked. 

"I don't know. Some guy." 

"You better come up with a name," Elliot growled, rolling up his shirt sleeves. There was a tap on the other side of the two-way mirror. "Think about it, Eddie." He stepped into the hallway where Captain Cragen was waiting with Huang and the assistant district attorney, Casey Novak. "What is it?" 

Huang pointed to the man in the interrogation room who was thumbing through his photographs while wiping his eyes. "Eddie Greene is not the man who shot Olivia." 

"Yeah, we kinda figured that when he started sniveling like a little baby," Munch said, joining them. "But he might give us some clues as to who bought the photograph." 

Novak spoke up. "Now that you've established his innocence, you're holding him without probable cause." 

"We haven't established anything," Elliot told her. 

"You have to release him. "She exchanged glances with the captain. "Hopefully he won't press charges against you." 

"Press charges? Did you _see_ those drawings? That guy is a fantasy away from rape." 

Huang half-smiled. Elliot knew what was coming next: a rebuttal. "As detailed as Eddie's drawings are, he has no intention of raping or murdering any of the women in them. They are his ideal fantasy: beautiful, powerful women in a position of authority. It's likely that if Olivia were here, and she had been interrogating him on a separate charge, he wouldn't be able to speak or make eye contact." 

"Can't you at least charge him on selling the photograph?" Munch asked. 

Novak shook her head. "The _Times_ can discipline him as they see fit, but he hasn't broken any state laws." 

"This is ridiculous," Elliot muttered. "Fine, we'll let him go - _after_ he tells us about the guy who bought the photograph." He returned to the interrogation room. "Okay, Eddie, did you come up with a name yet?" 

"He didn't give me a name. I was walking past McDonald's on Times Square on my way to work, and this guy bumps into me. He excuses himself, hands me a piece of paper." 

"What did the paper say?" 

"He told me he would pay me five hundred dollars to bring him the original picture of Elliot Stabler and Olivia Benson from the January 13 article about the Lily Angelo murder, when they arrested the guy who did it." 

Lily Angelo. The name was familiar. "Guess what, Eddie? You just got yourself a 'get out of jail free' card." 

*** 

Everyone gathered back in the squadroom after retrieving the file from archives. Elliot leaned against his desk next to Huang. Munch and Fin sat in their chairs, and Cragen stood in the center, listening to Munch read the highlights from the final report. 

"October 22, 2002. Lily Angelo, age twenty-five, was found murdered in her apartment. Cause of death: multiple stab wounds. The murder weapon was never recovered - probably swimming in the Hudson somewhere. There were signs of sexual activity which led to the processing of a rape kit. Semen was present, matching that of Lily Angelo's fiancé, David Morris. He claims he was there the night she died, they had sex, then he left. However, what Mr. Morris neglected to tell us was that Lily had confessed to having an affair with one of his business partners. All evidence put the fiancé there at the time of death. Motive sealed his fate. He's doing twenty-five to life in Sing Sing." Munch paused, flipping the page. "Strike that. Turns out about two and a half months ago, David Morris was killed in a prison brawl over a pack of cigarettes. Guy who did it got another twenty years tacked onto his life sentence. Case closed." 

"Why that particular photograph?" Cragen asked. "I've got half a dozen pictures of Elliot and Olivia on my wall from the _Times_, all of them better poses." 

"It could be related to the case," Fin pointed out. "Perp could've picked that picture because he read that article. John, were there any other suspects? Anyone who was unhappy with the outcome?" 

"Uh, Lily's mother was the one who found her in her apartment. Her father died when she was ten. David's father was in Singapore on business. David's mother was at a day spa. We also checked out the guy Lily was having the affair with, Patrick O'Dell. He said he was at home, asleep, when Lily was murdered. Didn't have an alibi, but with all the evidence against David, I guess he didn't need one." 

"You're thinking one of them tried to kill Olivia?" Huang asked. "I'm not sure the profile fits. Remember, this guy is most likely someone she knew on a personal level. I doubt she got close to any of the suspects." 

"You're probably right, but we should still re-interview everyone," Elliot said, "see if anyone's holding a grudge against me." 

"Uh, Elliot, let Fin and Munch handle this one." Cragen gave him a weak smile. "Go home and get some sleep." 

"But, Captain--" 

"You won't be any good to the investigation. You're coming up on forty-eight hours of no sleep." 

"I'm fine." 

"Have you looked in the mirror lately?" Munch asked. "You look like hell." 

"Well, thank you, John." 

"We aren't going to wake these people up at midnight, Elliot." Cragen put a hand on his shoulder. "Go home. I want you to take tomorrow off, too. Go see Olivia in the hospital. But not until you get some sleep." 

*** 

_Elliot Stabler's Apartment  
250 East 40th Street  
Monday, July 14_

Elliot awoke with a start, his skin covered with a thin film of perspiration. His bed sheets were twisted around him. He was glad he couldn't remember whatever nightmare had caused him to thrash around and nearly strangle himself. He looked at the clock. 9:30. Groaning, he untangled himself and climbed out of bed. After some breakfast, he'd get cleaned up, head over to the hospital and-- 

The coffee had barely begun to percolate when his cell phone rang. "Stabler." 

"Detective Stabler, this is Doctor Page calling you in regards to Olivia Benson." 

His heart stopped beating for a moment, and he weakly asked, "How is she?" 

"She's doing quite well. We're going to keep her in CCU for a few more days just to be sure, but she's regained full consciousness and her vitals are stable." 

"Oh, thank God. When can I see her?" 

"She's asked for you several times since she awakened." Elliot smiled at that. "I would be willing to let you see her for a very short time, but I have to inform you that Olivia has mild amnesia from her head injury." 

"Amnesia? Well, how bad is it?" 

"She told me the last thing she could remember was you calling a cab." 

Elliot sighed. "About fifteen minutes before she was shot." 

"I'm afraid so. Eventually, her memories will resurface, but as for now, she won't be able to answer any questions. You're still welcome to visit her, but try not to excite or upset her too much. Her vitals need to remain stable, including her pulse and blood pressure. Any undue stress could be harmful." 

Someone knocked on the door, and Elliot walked toward it. "Thank you for calling, Doctor. I'll be by in about an hour." He hung up and opened the door. "Hey, Randy." 

His neighbor stepped inside. "I, uh..." He looked at the rectangular gold box in his hands as if debating whether or not to give it to him. "How's Olivia?" 

"Actually, her doctor just called me. She's awake. I'm going to see her in a minute." 

"That's great news. Give her my regards. And some chocolates." He handed over the box. "Does she eat chocolate?" 

Elliot chuckled. "More than you know." He couldn't keep the stupid grin off his face, but Randy didn't seem to mind; he actually smiled back. "I don't mean to run you off, but--" 

"But you've got somewhere important to be." He winked. "Hey, Yankees versus Cleveland Saturday. You in?" 

"Absolutely. See you then." Elliot shook the box of chocolates. "Thanks." 

*** 

_Residence of Clara Morris  
Trenton, New Jersey  
Monday, July 14_

"That was Elliot," Munch said, snapping his cell phone shut as he and Fin headed up the walk to Clara Morris's house. "Olivia's awake. He's going over to see her now." 

"Good. Can she finger the perp?" 

"No. Amnesia from the head injury." 

Fin shook his head. "Man, when we find this guy..." He punched the doorbell a bit harder than necessary and pulled out his badge. A thin, pale woman answered the door. "Detectives Tutuola and Munch, Special Victims Unit, NYPD. We'd like to ask you a few questions." 

"You're a little out of your jurisdiction, aren't you?" She stepped aside anyway and led them through the house to the living room. "And I'm hardly a special victim." 

"Ma'am, we're here about your son, David Morris," Munch said. 

"I know who you are. I remember you and the other two." She folded her arms across her chest and glared at them. "It's not often you forget the faces of the people who put your innocent son behind bars." 

"Your son was hardly innocent," Fin told her, returning her gaze with equal suspicion. 

"My son would never have killed Lily. He loved that woman. You know, he never once changed his story. He left Lily's apartment at midnight and drove home. She was killed after he left." Clara wiped at her eyes. "What's the point in bringing up the past anyway? David was killed in prison, in case you didn't hear." 

"Where were you Saturday night around midnight?" Munch asked. 

She chuckled dryly. "The same place most people my age are at that time of night. Asleep." She sunk into the couch and crossed her legs. "What is this about?" 

"One of our detectives, Olivia Benson, was shot Saturday night." 

"A pity. When she wasn't accusing my son of murdering his fiancée, she was really a nice girl." 

Fin walked over to the mantle, examining the photographs above the fireplace. His eyes fell on a picture, and he frowned. "Who is this?" 

"Who?" Clara stood and walked beside him. "Oh, that's David with my husband, Randall. Well, _ex_-husband. We divorced after David was sent to prison." She shook her head. "He was in Singapore on business when Lily died. Couldn't even make it back in time for the trial. He was so angry and hurt when David was found guilty. Said there wasn't enough evidence to convict him." 

"John, check this out." He pulled the frame down and pointed to Randall. "Why do I know this face?" 

Munch stared at it for a moment, brow furrowed in thought. "You said your husband was angry, Mrs. Morris?" 

"Of course. Wouldn't you be angry if your only son was convicted of murder?" 

"Just how angry was he?" Fin asked. 

"He used to call me every night - from Singapore! He thought the police botched the investigation, missed key evidence that proved David wasn't guilty. Actually, he blamed most of it on Detective Benson's partner, Detective...Stabler. Yes, Stabler. Detective Stabler thought it was David all along." 

"Randall Morris." Munch spun the picture around so Fin could see it again. "Randy Moore. That's Elliot's neighbor." 

*End of Chapter 2 


	3. Chapter 3 of 3

Title: An Eye for an Eye  
Author: perfectvelvet  
Rating: PG-13 for language and violence, O&E  
Synopsis: An attack on Olivia's life sends her to the hospital and Elliot on a hunt to find the man who shot her.  
Notes: Muchas gracias to mi amiga Moonbeam for her help with the Spanish (which I took for one semester and got mixed up with my eight years of French)! 

Disclaimer: The characters you recognize are property of Wolf Films and Universal Television. No infringement is intended. The characters you don't recognize belong to me. 

_An Eye for an Eye_ 3/3  
by perfectvelvet 

_I-95 North  
Monday, July 14_

"Man, are the perps gettin' dumber or are we?" Fin shook his head. "Randall Morris, Randy Moore?" 

Munch turned the wheel to pass a semi and pressed the gas pedal harder. "Elliot would have no reason to suspect his neighbor or even someone named Randall Morris. We never questioned the father, remember? He was in Singapore; we confirmed that with his company." 

"I just hope Cragen finds Elliot before something else happens. Damn it, why did he have to turn off his cell phone?" 

*** 

_Bellevue Hospital Center  
462 First Avenue  
Monday, July 14_

Carrying the box of chocolates from Randy, Elliot climbed into the elevator with two other people and pressed the button for floor seventeen. He hoped he could smuggle the food in; Olivia could probably use the sweets. Hospital food was murder. 

When he arrived on the correct floor, he found the nurses' station. An exceedingly cheerful woman grinned at him. "Can I help you?" 

"I'm Elliot Stabler. Doctor Page told me I could visit Olivia Benson this morning." 

"Yes, I have the note right here, Detective." She saw the box in his hands, and her mouth made a tiny 'o'. "There's no food allowed on this floor. We can hold it at the station until you've finished your visit though." 

He shrugged and gave her the chocolate. "Anything else I should know?" 

"You'll have to turn your cell phone off. It might disrupt the equipment." 

"I already did." He smiled at her. "Can I see Olivia now?" 

"Follow me. Now I'm sure the doctor told you, but we have to keep her vitals stable. Don't say or do anything that could upset her or excite her." 

He raised his eyebrows. "Such as?" 

"Well, discussing certain issues or performing certain actions..." The nurse blushed slightly. "Seeing as how you're a detective, I think you know." 

"I'll be on my best behavior." They stopped at a doorway, and the nurse tilted her head in that direction before giving him a big grin and returning to the station. 

Elliot greeted the two cops who were watching her room then walked inside slowly, a deep ache in his chest. Except for the beeping of some machines, it was quiet. Olivia lay in the hospital bed, asleep. Her skin was ashen, IVs and tubes connecting her to equipment Elliot couldn't identify. He sat in the chair beside her and picked up her hand. _It should be me in that bed, not her._ His eyes filled with tears, and he closed them, bringing her hand to his cheek. 

There was a weak squeeze on his thumb. He opened his eyes again and kissed her knuckles. "Sleeping Beauty awakens. How you feeling?" 

Olivia started to chuckle, but the sound turned into a cough. "Okay." Her voice was weak and ragged. "Hungry." 

"I tried to smuggle in some chocolate, but I got caught at the nurses' station." 

"By the perky nurse, no doubt." 

All of the tension and fear he had felt about her condition suddenly manifested into a loud laugh. _She's going to be okay._

Olivia frowned at his behavior. "What's so funny?" 

"Nothing." He bent and kissed her forehead, his lips lingering for a moment. "Nothing at all." 

"Elliot," came a voice from the doorway. Cragen stood outside, an unreadable expression on his face. 

He turned around and smiled. "Hey, Cap. Join us." When the man showed no signs of moving, Elliot reluctantly released Olivia's hand and stood. "I'll be right back." He followed his captain into the hallway. "What's wrong?" 

The words had barely left his mouth when Cragen asked, "Why did you turn off your cell phone?" 

"Because I'm in a hospital." 

He pursed his lips together and nodded. "Munch and Fin discovered the identity of Olivia's shooter." 

"And?" Elliot waited but received no response. "Captain, who was it?" 

"Randy Moore, your neighbor. They're on their way over to his apartment to pick him up." 

He felt like he'd just been punched in the chest. "R--" His eyes turned toward the nurses' station where he caught sight of a gold box from Russell Stover. "The chocolate." 

"What?" 

He jogged to the counter and picked up the box, immediately giving it to Cragen. "Randy gave this to me this morning. Said it was a present for Olivia." 

"We'll have it checked out right away." Cragen sighed. "I'm sorry, Elliot." 

"Wait here. I'm going to say goodbye to Olivia, then I'm coming with you." He returned to her room, ignoring the emotions he felt about Randy and focusing solely on her. "Hey, Liv, something's come up, and I've got to go, but I'll come back as soon as I can." He leaned over her bed and caressed her cheek with his fingertips. "Next time, I'll stay the whole half-hour." 

"Be careful," she half-whispered. "One of us in the hospital is enough." 

"One of us is one too many, if you ask me." He dropped another kiss on her forehead and straightened. "Get better. I'll see you soon." When he left the room, Cragen was instructing the officers to restrict visitors to her room to Elliot or himself. Elliot nodded in agreement then followed the captain to the elevator. 

"How well did you know Randy?" 

The blood began to boil, and he clenched his fists. "Perhaps the better question would be how well did he know me. Damn it! He's been planning this for months. All of it. He knew me, he knew Olivia. Hell, he used to go jogging Saturday mornings with us until he got that night job at the hotel." 

"What hotel?" 

"Hilton Times Square." Elliot sighed. "Right across the street from the _Times_." He slammed his fist against the elevator button, and the door opened with a small _ding_. He entered, Cragen close behind, and pressed another button. He didn't doubt what Munch and Fin had uncovered, but the fury of being betrayed raged through him. How could he have been so blind? 

"We'll get this guy, Elliot." 

Cragen's promise meant nothing to him, and he ignored it, his eyes focused on the floor countdown. 12, 11, 10... When the doors finally opened, they hurried to the car. Cragen tossed him the keys, and Elliot slid into the driver's seat. 

When Cragen and Elliot arrived, Munch and Fin were walking out of the building, alone and empty-handed. "Where is he?" Elliot asked, climbing out of the car and slamming the door. 

Munch shook his head. "We were too late. Randy was already gone." 

"Gone?" He stared at him for a moment, mouth open. "Well, how do you know he isn't out running errands or--" 

"Because he left you another note. 'Until we meet again'." 

*** 

_Olivia Benson's Apartment  
427 East 82nd Street  
Thursday, August 14_

Elliot balanced the bouquet of daisies and the Chinese takeout in one hand while using the other to unlock the door to Olivia's apartment building. He was thankful that she had an elevator; getting all of the items to the third floor would be difficult if he had to take the stairs. When he reached the correct apartment, he held the sack of food between his teeth and fumbled for the right key. He needed to color-code it or something, _anything_, to make it easier to find. Muttering to himself, he unlocked the door and went inside, turning directly toward the kitchen and unloading his packages onto the counter. 

"Hi, Daddy!" Kathleen bounced up beside him and squeezed him tightly. 

He made an 'oomph' sound and pulled his wallet out of his side pocket as it dug into his hip from the pressure. "Careful, sweetheart." He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and kissed the top of her head. "Where's Olivia?" 

"She's changing clothes." 

He filled a vase with water and put the flowers into it. "So, what'd you guys do today?" 

Kathleen rolled her eyes, taking the vase from him and setting it on the end table by the front door. "The same thing we do every day, Daddy. Watch _Oprah_, grab some lunch, and work on Olivia's cardio in the park." 

Since Olivia's release from the hospital two weeks earlier, Kathleen had spent nearly every week day with her at her apartment. "I'm proud of you, honey. You've done really well. I know Olivia appreciates all the help. You keeping her on her exercise regimen?" 

"As prescribed by Doctor Page." She grinned. "School starts again in a couple of weeks, but Olivia promised to help me with my homework. She speaks awesome Spanish." 

"Well, what's wrong with me helping you?" 

She sighed and rolled her eyes again. "You _don't_ speak awesome Spanish." 

Olivia walked into the room with a smile on her face. "_¿No te gusta de su español?_" 

"_No, es terrible._" 

Elliot held up a finger. "Hey, now, we'll have none of that." He began unpacking the Chinese food from the white sack. "Not if you want some sweet and sour chicken and some eggrolls. You staying for dinner, honey?" 

"No thanks, Dad." 

"You sure? I bought more than enough." 

"No. Um, Steve's coming over, and he and Mom are doing some barbecue." She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and looked at the floor. "I sort of promised I'd be there." 

Elliot nodded. His ex-wife's new boyfriend was great according to Dickie and Lizzie, but Kathleen seemed a bit uneasy. He made a mental note to run another background check on him tomorrow. "You go ahead. You can eat with us another time." 

"Okay." She gave him a quick hug. "Love you." Then she did the same to Olivia. "I'll see you tomorrow." 

"Good night, Kathleen." She closed the door behind her, pausing briefly to touch the flowers. "Okay, I'm starving. Let's eat." 

"Something's not right," he muttered, dishing out equal portions of rice onto two plates. 

"What, did they forget the fortune cookies again?" she asked, peering into the bag. 

"I meant with Kathleen." 

Olivia shrugged, dropping an egg roll on each plate. "She seems fine to me." 

"I don't think she likes Steve too much." 

"Elliot--" 

"I just worry about her, that's all." 

She ran a hand through her short hair and sighed. "Okay. Kathleen will kill me if she knows I told you this, but to stop you from moping around all night, Kathleen isn't comfortable with Steve because Steve isn't you." 

His head snapped up, and a glob of sauce fell from the spoon unnoticed. "She told you that?" 

"In so many words. Elliot, your children love you, and they miss you. You know Kathy has good judgment." 

"I hope so." 

"She married you, didn't she?" Olivia nudged him with a smile. "Look, I know that you're worried about them, but don't be. Besides, I've been showing Kathleen some self-defense tactics and--" 

"Liv, you heard what the doctor said. No strenuous activity." 

"It wasn't. I'm talking knee to the groin, elbow to the solar plexus type of tactics." 

"So basically you've been teaching my seventeen-year-old daughter to kick guys in the balls?" 

"Hey, whatever keeps her out of harm's way." 

He put his hand over hers. "Thanks." He finished distributing the sweet and sour chicken and handed her a plate. "Oh, Munch told me to tell you that your suspicions about Granger were right but that he was taking all the credit." 

Olivia chuckled, sliding into a chair at the table and beginning to eat. "Sounds like Munch all right. So, did Cragen say that it was all right for you to share current cases with me?" 

He shrugged. "You're still my partner." 

They had been in a unique but comfortable situation for the past two weeks. Elliot had all but moved in, spending his nights on her couch just as he had done after the divorce, despite Olivia's occasional protests. When he couldn't be there, Kathleen was, so Olivia was never alone. He kept telling her it was for health purposes, so the tamponade didn't recur, but in truth he was still worried about Randy. His mysterious escape at exactly the right time had raised suspicions and with good reason. The chocolates Randy had given as a 'gift' had been tested, and the results showed that each of the pieces had been laced with cyanide. All attempts to find him failed, despite the APB put out in the tri-state area. The LUDs didn't give any hints as to his destination either. So far, he hadn't returned, as his note had implied, but Elliot knew it was only a matter of time. With revenge, it always was. 

"So what movie did you get?" 

Elliot sighed. "I knew there was something I was forgetting." 

Her eyes widened. "Thursday has been designated movie night, and you forgot?" 

"Tell you what." He shoved an oversized forkful of rice in his mouth and stood up. "I'll go right now." 

"Don't worry about it. The video store's just a couple of blocks away. Finish eating." 

"Nah, I had a donut before I left. Not really that hungry." 

She gave him a stern look before offering a smile. "Well, don't forget your keys this time. I don't want a repeat of last week." 

He stifled a laugh. It had been a frightful situation at the time. Elliot had forgotten Olivia's keys, which at the time weren't looped onto his own keyring, and repeated knocks had gone unanswered. He had tracked down the super and got the door unlocked. Thinking she was hurt or worse, he had pulled out his weapon and searched the apartment room by room. He had finally found her taking a bubble bath, listening to the radio with her headphones on. To avoid any more incidents, they made a promise: no more headphones if he always remembered his key. "Don't worry," he told her, pulling the keyring from his pocket and jingling it, "I have it right here. I'll be back in ten, fifteen minutes tops." 

She watched him leave then finished her meal. Physically her situation had improved greatly. With Kathleen's help, she was getting stronger every day. They were currently walking two miles in the park. When the humidity was too great, they went to her gym and walked on treadmills. It was a start; she used to run at least five miles every morning. As well as continuing her old routines, Olivia was anxious to get back to work, even if she had to be on desk duty. Kathleen would be starting her senior year soon, which would leave Olivia alone again. In truth, she was getting used to the idea of having someone around all the time. 

She stood to clean up the dishes and noticed a palm-sized black square laying on the counter. She chuckled to herself. "Good job, Elliot. Remember your keys, forget your wallet." The lock tumblers clicked, and she lifted her head. "Hey, looks like you forgot something." 

The man who entered the room wasn't Elliot. It was Randy. A sinister grin made its way to his face. "I didn't forget, Olivia." 

*** 

Elliot was tempted to run to the video store; the sooner he got there, the sooner he could get back and relax on the couch. During Olivia's absence, he'd been partnered with some rookie who he knew wasn't going to last in the unit for long. It was almost as if he was doing everything solo. His 'partner' had taken one look at their first dead body of the month and promptly lost his breakfast. Even now, three weeks later, he couldn't step foot in the forensics lab when M.E. Warner wanted to share her findings. 

Two teenagers on skateboards whizzed past him, one of them bumping into Elliot as he flew by. Having grown up in New York City, Elliot's first thought was to check for his wallet. It wasn't there. He spun around, ready to chase after the boys, then remembered Kathleen and the hug that had left an imprint of his wallet on his hip. He hadn't been pickpocketed; he had left his wallet on the counter. 

Shaking his head - Olivia would _never_ let him hear the end of this one - he headed back for the apartment. 

*** 

"That wouldn't be wise, would it, Olivia?" 

She looked at the knife that she had grabbed from the block by her stove. "Oh? And why is that?" 

Randy tapped the blade of his own knife against the end of his chin. "See, most women aren't strong enough to injure a man with a knife. They lack the strength and the ability to do so." 

"You forget, Randy. I'm a cop." 

"I said _most_ women. I have no doubt that you would be able to force a small kitchen knife through muscle and sinew, no doubt that you could inflict great harm - maybe even kill with a knife like that. However, the strain it would place on your heart might cause a recurrence of the tamponade, and then what have we really accomplished? You killed me, you killed yourself. Poor Elliot would have a difficult time cleaning up all the blood." 

She knew he was right, but she didn't release the weapon. Back when she was in the hospital, when her memories of the shooting had returned, Elliot had told her what they knew about Randall Morris. Extensively trained in military covert operations, he had made most of his money by manufacturing and selling machinery to any country willing to pay for it. His son, David, was going to take over the family business when he retired, but when David was sent to prison for Lily's murder, Randy took it personally. Olivia knew his marksmanship was superb; he was not someone who would go down easily. "Why are you doing this, Randy?" 

"Why?" He scoffed, taking a step toward her. "Why? Because your partner put my son in jail." 

"Your son murdered his fiancée." 

"My son was innocent!" 

"Okay." Olivia eased her knife onto the counter and stepped back, her hands in the air. "Okay. Let's talk about this, Randy. I put my knife down, now you put down yours." 

He rushed toward her, and she lunged for her weapon. Her fingers were mere inches from it when the blade of Randy's knife stopped her from reaching any further. She looked up at him, wishing her hand would stop shaking. "Don't even think about it, Olivia." He took her knife and tossed it over the counter. "Now come here." She didn't move, and he grabbed her wrist, yanking her toward him. "Come _here_!" 

Olivia twisted from his grasp, freeing herself and backing into the end table by the door. The vase of flowers tipped over, crashing on the hardwood floor. 

*** 

The hairs on the back of Elliot's neck stood up. It was probably nothing, but the sound he had heard - something like breaking glass - had come from Olivia's apartment. Yanking his keys from his pocket, he struggled to find the right one. He could hear voices, scuffling, a few groans. _Oh, please let Olivia be watching television._ He finally produced the right key and shoved it into the lock. 

*** 

"Get up, you bitch." Randy gave Olivia's ribs another kick, and she moaned, curling up into a ball. He grabbed her by the hair and pulled her to her feet. She struggled again, digging her nails into his arms. He let out a yell before forcing her back against him and wrapping his arm in a choke hold around her neck. The blade of his knife slid across her arm, leaving a trail of blood to drip down her elbow and onto the floor. She cried out from the pain and clamped her opposite hand on the wound. Randy chuckled; her weakness had given him the opportunity to pin her arms down. "Say goodnight, Olivia." He brought the knife to her throat. 

The door flung open, and Elliot burst in, hand on his weapon. He pulled it out and pointed it toward them. "Let her go, Randy." 

He laughed, tightening his hold on both Olivia and the knife. "What are you going to do, shoot me? Shoot her? I don't think so." 

He glanced at Olivia for a brief moment. Blood trickled from her arm and nose, and she was breathing heavily. Her eyes, however, were fierce; she wanted him to take the shot. He looked back at Randy, gun still trained on him. "I'm not going to ask you again. Let her go. It's me you want." 

"Actually, I wanted Maureen, but I couldn't find her address anywhere." 

He gasped quietly at the sound of his oldest daughter's name. His finger tightened around the trigger. 

"So it's not really 'an eye for an eye,' but it'll have to do." 

"Your son stabbed his fiancé to death. He deserved what he got." 

"My son was innocent!" Randy cried. "And _you're_ the cold-hearted bastard who killed him!" 

"Put the knife down, Randy." Elliot took a step forward. "Put it down!" 

"You're going to pay for what you did to my son, Elliot." 

"Your son was guilty." 

"He was innocent!" Randy moved the knife from Olivia's throat and pointed it at him. "_This_ is your murder weapon, Detective. I killed that bitch, Lily! No one treats my son that way - no one!" 

Olivia thrust her elbow into Randy's chest with more ferocity than she had shown Kathleen. The attack startled him, and he loosened his hold on her. She dove for the floor, and Elliot pulled back on the trigger, twice. As each bullet penetrated his chest, Randy jerked like a puppet then collapsed, choking out his final breath. 

Elliot stood still for a moment, his mind void of all conscious thought. He stared at the body as he lowered his weapon. 

"Elliot." 

Olivia's weak, shaky voice brought him back to the present, and he helped her to her feet. She clung to him, staring at the man on the floor. Elliot held her tightly. "It's all over. He can't hurt us anymore." 

*** 

_Special Victims Unit  
Friday, August 15_

The clock on the wall read 9:52. Elliot chewed on his lower lip, a childhood habit he had broken years ago that had reappeared last night when he found out he would be investigated by IAB. Olivia was due in at ten o'clock for her statement. Kathleen would be bringing her. 

After detailing the incident to the investigating officers last night, they had relocated to his apartment and gone to sleep. He didn't see her in the morning as he was running late and barely had time to shower. He knew Olivia would defend his actions; she had justified the shots long before he had ever taken them. But IAB had an uncanny ability to turn the truth into an excuse, and Elliot was sure they would use Randy's previous attacks to trick Olivia into saying the wrong thing. 

"Check this out." Fin dropped a stack of paper on Elliot's desk, startling him from his trance. "We just got in the passenger manifest from United Airlines dated October 21, 2002. Non-stop flight from Singapore to JFK." 

"Let me guess. Randall Morris was on the plane." 

"Somehow, Randy got word that Lily had been cheating on his son. Guess he decided to do something about it." He pointed the top of the page. "There's the receipt for the ticket. Paid cash. He landed just before midnight. We're guessing he took a cab to Lily's apartment, stabbed her to death, then took the red-eye back to Singapore. He was only in town for a couple of hours." 

Elliot picked up the papers only to slam them back on his desktop. "How did we miss this? How did we _possibly_ miss this? An innocent man was sent to prison where he was murdered by another inmate, while the real killer continued to roam free. That's hardly justice for Lily Angelo." He sighed, his anger dissipating with his breath. "Hardly justice for Olivia." 

"Olivia got her justice, thanks to you." 

He scoffed then caught sight of Olivia and Kathleen walking into the squadroom. "Let's hope IAB sees it that way, too." 

Cragen stepped out of his office when he saw Olivia coming toward him. "It's good to see you again, Detective. How are you feeling?" 

"A little sore, but other than that..." 

Kathleen put a hand on her shoulder. "I'm going to go see Dad. I'll be here when you're done." 

When she was gone, Cragen said, "I'm sorry that you have to go through all of this." 

"I just want to get it over with." 

With a nod, he held out a hand, gesturing for her to go first. She briefly glanced at Elliot before turning the corner and heading for the interrogation room. Cragen came with her, and they waited in silence. 

A tall, thin man in a suit entered the room. Olivia recognized him from the Internal Affairs unit. He sat in the other chair, greeting her with a nod. "I'm Richard Brown, IAB. I'm going to make this as brief as possible, Detective Benson. You understand why you're here?" 

"You're investigating the discharge of Detective Stabler's firearm in my apartment last night, what you consider to be 'excessive use of force'." 

"That, and the death of Randall Morris, alias Randy Moore." 

Cragen looked at his detective before turning to the door. "I'll be outside if you need anything, Olivia." 

When they were alone, Brown pulled a cassette tape out of his inside breast pocket and slid it into the player, pressing record. "I need you to tell me everything that happened last night, in your own words." 

She told her story again, repeating what she had told the officer the night before at her apartment. IAB was working fast on this one, gathering information less than twenty-four hours after the incident occurred. 'While your memory is fresh,' they had told her when they called her in. Olivia found it humorous; last night wasn't one she was likely to forget. 

When she finished, Brown consulted his notes. "Detective Benson, do you believe Detective Stabler was acting within the realm of his employment?" 

She kept her face blank and her eyes fixed on his. "Absolutely." 

"He wasn't just seeking revenge?" 

"An APB had already been placed on Randall Morris the month before. Detective Stabler did what any law enforcement officer would do in that situation." 

"What situation?" 

"A perpetrator was holding me, a fellow police officer, hostage. He had already tried to kill me with a gun and cyanide-laced chocolates. He had also escaped capture, and the NYPD isn't in the habit of making the same mistake twice." 

The corner of Brown's mouth lifted into a half-smile. "Given the circumstances, was there anything Detective Stabler could have done differently?" 

"No." 

"How many shots did you say were fired?" 

"Two." 

He raised an eyebrow. "And you don't find that to be excessive use of force?" 

"No," she answered, "I do not, and neither would the police academy that taught us to use the double-tap method." 

He shifted his position and gazed at her silently. She resisted the urge to smirk; she knew she had him. He reached across the table and pressed 'stop' on the recorder. "Thank you, Detective. You're free to go." 

She pushed away from the table and stood, then walked out of the room and down the empty corridor to the bullpen. 

Elliot looked up as she approached, wiggling a pencil between his thumb and forefinger. Kathleen picked at a donut but also lifted her head as Olivia approached them. "How'd it go?" she asked. "Is Dad in trouble?" 

"No," Olivia told her, offering Elliot the smallest hint of a smile, "everything's going to be fine." 

*The End*  
Comments and constructive criticism are always appreciated :) 


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